


Red Shoes

by SerenaScarlet



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Dance!AU, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, ballet!au, dance, they're going to bang eventually just warning ya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaScarlet/pseuds/SerenaScarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean I’ve been reassigned?”<br/>In which Adrien is cast as the titular character of “Le Chat Noir,” Paris’ newest ballet and finds himself falling for his new dance partner, on and off the stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s IT. My father will hear about this!”  
Adrien winced as the door to the studio slammed shut, yet again. A bout of silence had permeated the room. Most of the other dancers had quiet frowns, a small few with open mouths, never having been a first-hand witness to the fury that is Chloe Borgouis.  
Madam Bustier was having none of it. Call it one tantrum too many, but Adrien had only seen that look in the choreographer’s eyes one other time, and it had ended with at least five of the corps girls in tears.  
“She wants to be a little princess…fine!” she adjusted the shawl on her shoulders and motioned to her assistant. “Reassign Chloe as ‘The Princess’ for the show.”  
Adrien’s eyes widened. The assistant sputtered, clearly uncomfortable. “But! Madam Bustier, that’s a minor role! She’s only present in three scenes! Chloe will—  
“I know, but my ballet has no place for a diva.”  
“But who will dance the—  
“There is an understudy, you know.”  
With this, Madame Bustier turned towards the throng of ballet girls hanging by the barres.  
“Marinette, if you will.”  
There was a squeak, and then a thin, dark-haired girl slowly stood up from the floor. Her hair was wrapped in a simple bun, with some stubborn locks that framed her face.  
“P-present!”  
“Goodness gracious, girl, we’re not in class.” Madam Bustier’s voice was harsh, but her eyes had since softened.  
“Uh, yes ma’am I MEAN Madame!”  
Adrien had seen the girl before—he noted that she often stayed behind after rehearsal, just to practice the steps one more time. He had to admire that kind of dedication. However, he (as well as the rest of the company) had no idea that she was Chloe’s understudy—or even that Chloe HAD an understudy, for that matter. Still, now the fact that he saw the Madame helping Marinette long after rehearsal made a lot of sense.  
“Good. Anyways, I’m assigning you as ‘The Red Lady,’ starting immediately.”  
“So that means I’ll dance with…” her voice trailed off, staring at Adrien with something close to wonder.  
He tried to return with a smile that he hoped came off as sincere. Someone in awe wasn’t new. Without sounding like a narcissist, he was used to it. As Gabriel Agreste’s son, he had joined the Royale Ballet as a soloist at the young age of seventeen, being promoted to Principal by nineteen. A true child prodigy, even if dancing wasn’t his father’s first choice of how Adrien would succeed the Agreste legacy.  
Gabriel had grumbled when he first joined the company about how composing would have to wait. “You can…move while you’re young, Adrien.” He had sternly spit out at dinner one night. “…but when you are older, then you will master how to create.”  
His father had compounded that last word with a neat, but precise slice of his fillet mignon. Adrien understood the implication.  
Madam Bustier’s pointed look towards him commanded his attention back to the present. “Yes, with Adrien. From the top of the scene, if you will.”  
She gestured a delicate hand to the pianist, who immediately began playing the starting tones of Gabriel Agreste’s newest innovative ballet piece. “Le Chat Noir,” in which Adrien was cast as the titular character, concerned a black cat that was in love with a princess and goes on an adventure to rescue her. On the way, he meets a guardian-angel sort of character, “Le Dame en Rouge,” who guides him to defeat the warlock villain.  
Without a second thought, he turned a hand towards the girl (Marinette, was it?) to prepare for their first pas de deux.  
Her hesitation was obvious. “Come on, you wouldn’t be the understudy if Madame Bustier thought ill of you…Marinette.”  
The girl’s hand felt a bit shaky, but fit nicely within his palm when she took it anyway.  
“And a five, six, seven, eight…”  
As soon as their cue hit Marinette burst to life. If he hadn’t drilled the moves into his bones when practicing with Chloe earlier, he might’ve been stunned. Every footfall was on point, every extension of her arm strong and not what he expected. In the mirror there was an odd determination in her blue, blue eyes.  
Suddenly, she broke away from him. The music told him that this was the part where he stood back and let her do her fouettés. This was the toughest piece of choreography for this scene; Chloe struggled with the tight turns, and it was her fifth stumble that made her rage out of the studio just minutes prior.

The contrast could not be more obvious as Marinette began her rotations. Her thin practice skirt swirled around her leotard as she completed another set of double fouettés, her extra-hours practice evident. He crossed over downstage, never taking his eyes off of her. She was—

“Breathtaking!” exclaimed their choreographer as she clapped her hands, silencing the piano. The ebony-haired girl swayed to a stop, and even she seemed to notice the eerie sense of awe that pierced the room.  
Her cheeks suddenly swelled with a rosy color, brought on by both physical output and embarrassment.  
Madame Bustier didn’t seem to notice. “I didn’t think you had picked up the steps so well! I was going to go slow with the two of you for the pas de deux, but I wanted to see where this little firecracker went!”  
She went to go pat Marinette softly on the shoulders, and then resumed her seat in front of the mirrors. “Alright, I want to start from the top again. Adrien, pay mind to your expression. You look like a fish, not a cat.”  
Adrien snapped his jaw shut at the comment and tried not to pick up on the giggles that echoed around the dance room.  
They practiced for another two hours, mostly on the pas de deux. Finally, the rehearsal session switched over to the full company dances. Adrien was glad for the break and met up with his new partner at the water fountain.  
“Hi,” he offered as he waited for her water bottle to fill. Her back straightened.  
“Oh, hey.” She smiled a bit awkwardly as the water sloshed out of her polka-dotted bottle. “Um, I don’t think I properly introduced myself earlier…”  
“With dancing like yours, I’m not sure an introduction is needed.” He sent her a cheeky smile, but he meant every word. Who would have known that the corps held such a talent?  
“Oh, uh—that was just because Ma’am I mean Madame Bustier helped me so much after class! She’s a great teacher.”  
“Agreed.”  
There was a moment when the two of them held eye contact until he bent down to grab his own fill of refreshing water.  
His drink was almost spoiled by a shriek from across the room.  
“What do you mean I’ve been reassigned?”  
He sighed. Chloe had returned.

Making his way quickly to his bag, he packed up his shoes and practically ran out of the studio. The crisp spring air met his face as he finally made it outside of the dark building. The sun had already set.

Picking up a Royale with Cheese from the fast food joint right on the corner, he walked a few extra minutes to his apartment. Having a famous father had a few perks, one of them being a nice one bedroom place right in the middle of Paris (and conveniently close to the ballet). 

“Hiya Plagg.” He bent down to scratch the chin of his cat, a stray he found on his balcony one evening that stuck with him ever since. The bending brought attention to the strain in his thighs, a product of one too many jumps. The role of Chat Noir was nearly acrobatic, a task that required a lot of endurance training. He groaned and made his way to the bedroom.  
Once he had neatly collapsed on his bed, he remembered to check his phone. A missed phone call from Chloe, with a voice mail he didn’t have the current patience for. A text message from Nino, with the generic “How u been.” No other new messages, but that was normal. 

He must’ve been more tired than he thought. Sleep overcame him like a well-welcomed blanket.

He dreamt of blue. 

Xxx

Adrien felt the buzz from his phone through the mattress.  
He twisted over and was granted a quick moment of peace when the buzzing stopped, only for it to start again a few seconds later.  
Cracking his eyes open, Adrien quickly looked for the source of his early wake up call.  
He reached over to find his best friend’s name and picture staring back at him. Of course.  
“Hey,” he offered meekly.  
“Yo Adrien! What’s up? Are we still on for lunch?”  
It took a second to remember that it was a Saturday, which meant he didn’t have to show up at work until six for the company’s performance of Giselle that night.  
“Yeah, just give me a second. What time is it?”  
“Already 11, dude. You okay? You sound exhausted.”  
Adrien grimaced, and stretched a sore muscle in his calves. “What’s new?”  
With a promise to meet up in an hour for some late brunch, the blonde got up slowly to find that his cat had gotten into last night’s forgotten cheeseburger.  
“Aw Plagg! You know that stuff isn’t good for you.”  
The cheeseburger was whisked away amidst a protest of soft mewls. Luckily, his faithful pet quieted down after Adrien cracked open a can of cat food.  
His stomach growled as he clambered around his meager kitchen for a clean glass. “You have a bigger appetite than me, my friend.”  
The kitchen, like the rest of the place, was void of decorations. A black coffee maker he had gotten last Christmas. A small table, with two folding chairs. The floor was clean enough, and having Plagg around meant that he never saw a cockroach. To be honest, his apartment was only a place to eat, bathe, and sleep.  
Finding a mug in the back of a cabinet, he quickly filled it with water to quench his parched throat. Plagg continued to ravish his cat food. He thought about how nice it would be to skip a show just for the night. He was only part of the ensemble in this show, and an understudy to the male lead. Surely someone else could fill in his few scenes of standing in front of the village set with a smile comfortably plastered on his face.  
He squashed this daydream quickly and refilled his mug. Work nowadays in not what he had once envisioned it to be. His earliest memories were sitting at the corner of two wall mirrors, absentmindingly coloring in a picture as his Maman twirled with her dance partner, practically floating around the floor.  
People still talked about his late mother’s grace, both on and off the stage. She was the one who every ballerina in the company aspired to be, the one who handed out candy canes to the children after every Nutcracker performance, chest still heaving from the performance. When Adrien was young, he would go to ecolé and then get picked up by the Agreste bodyguard, who then drove him over to the studio. Back then, his dad was still an up-and-coming composer, and would sit in on the rehearsals to play the practice music himself. He remembered his parents smiling a lot.  
It was only natural that Adrien wanted to join in on their secret game of ballet. Maman taught him every position, and soon enough he joined the Junior Company. The rest was history.  
If his parents were not who they were, would he have ended up dancing? It was a question that seemed to come up in his mind a lot lately, annoying him like a piece of meat between your teeth that you can’t quite dig out.  
The steps, he could do them. The long hours, he had gotten used to. Everything pointed to the perfect child star.  
And yet.  
His cat had finished his food, and made sure Adrien knew it. He bent down to scratch the black cat’s head. Plagg made a sound of want.  
“Yeah, me too.”

Xxx

“Anything new lately?”  
Adrien finished his mouthful of croissant. A “nothing,” rolled on his tongue, until he remembered something.  
“Chloe was reassigned in the new show.”  
Nino’s brown eyes widened. “Wow! I can’t believe it. That prima donna?”  
“Yeah, I know. She’s fine of course, but I guess Madame Bustier just had enough.”  
His friend chuckled. “Fine? Chloe’s been dancing almost as long as you have. Who’s good enough to replace her, attitude check or not?”  
Black hair and a twirling skirt flashed through his mind. “There’s this girl from the corps that’s my new partner. She’s pretty good.”  
This woke up his companion even more. “A new girl huh? Is she cute?”  
“Nino.”  
“What? Just wondering.”  
Adrien paused. “She’s nice, I guess. Nice smile.”  
Nino peered at his friend a little bit too long. He nodded. “So she’s cute?”  
They both laughed.  
“I guess so.”  
“Cold man.” Nino took another rough bite of his baguette. “…Just cold! I can’t wait to meet the girl that somehow catches your eye.”  
His parents flashed through his mind. “It’s not going to be anyone at the studio, that’s for sure. When do you have to leave?”  
“Don’t worry, my call time is in an hour and a half. I have time.”  
“What about costume?”  
Nino smirked and waved his hand in front of his chest. “This IS the costume.”  
Now that he mentioned it, Adrien noticed that his friend’s attire was a bit less colorful than what he usually wore.  
“You know you’re not supposed to take that out of the theatre. The shop manager’s going to freak.”  
“Ah, don’t worry, she’s got a sweet spot for me. Speaking of cute girls…” Nino trailed off, making an hourglass shape with his hands.  
“You’re going to make me lose my appetite.”  
“Your father would be so proud to see that you’re keeping your diet.”  
Adrien glared as Nino started laughing once again.

Xxx

“And a one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight.”  
Footfalls fell into one another as Adrien tried to keep up with the beat. This particular solo for Chat Noir was frantic, while keeping with the same energetic steps that characterized the animalistic role.  
At his next break, he glanced at Marinette on the other side of the room, blocking out some positions with the choreographer. The director of the ballet was also there that day, checking in on the rehearsal progress. Both older adults looked pleased.  
“What are you looking at, Adri-honey?”  
He suppressed his initial cringe with practiced endurance.  
“Nothing, Chloe. How are you?”  
“Upset. And angry. How dare they think a little…cricket like her can take up the lead role when the show’s just a few weeks away? Unbelievable.” Her miffed eyes glared towards Marinette’s direction.  
He wanted to say how Marinette had been her understudy from the beginning, but Adrien was not the sort of person to make waves. He settled for a half-hearted nod.  
“Adrien! Come over here, we’d like to go over the first pas de deux again.”  
Without another word, his tired limbs trudged over to his partner’s side. After a brief hello all around, the music began.  
Things flowed as well as they had a few nights prior. His feet did as he commanded, and Marinette was…she was…  
Fire. Passion. Honestly a bit distracting.  
And it wasn’t long before Bustier called him out on it.  
“Stop the music.” The piano died down.  
The choreographer closed her eyes for a second, then snapped them open. “This music of your father’s,” Adrien felt a twinge, “it’s very lively, no? The interaction between Chat Noir and Le Dame en Rouge is supposed to be dynamic. Flexible. They both balance and support one another throughout the performance, especially at the end.”  
“I want to see that between you; the audience should be able to as well. You both have the moves down pretty well, but you need to work on complementing.”  
“A character study. That’s what you two need. Adrien, what does Chat Noir do when he first meets the Lady?”  
His mind raced back to the rehearsed steps. “He circles her for three counts and then bows low—  
“Not the blocking. Here, show me what he does.” She motioned her palms forward as Adrien stumbled on what to do. He turned to his partner. She echoed his confused stare for a second, but nonetheless popped up into third position, her hands gracefully curved in an oval in front of her.  
Chat Noir. Chat Noir. What would a black cat do at this moment?  
His mind turned to his furry friend at home. Of course!  
He started his circling, his eyes not straight ahead like normal but trained on his partner, assessing her every move. He lunged onto the floor, a cat’s playful bow, but something compelled him to take his Lady’s hands and bow his face onto them, half a nuzzle and half a pantomimed kiss. His rise was slow, and languid; Cats do everything on their own time, after all.  
The director was the one to speak this time. “Great! Exactly the sort of mood we want for the show.” He patted Madame Bustier on the shoulder. “I knew we couldn’t have gone wrong with casting Adrien.”  
Chat Noir himself tried not to grin too wide.  
The rest of practice went smoothly.

Xxx

“Good job tonight, Marinette.”  
Her face flew up from her towel, looking almost startled that he was talking to her.  
“O-oh of course! I mean, thanks! You did great too…well you always do great, um…”  
She trailed off. Must be left-over endorphins from all the dance practice.  
“I mean it though. You got the essence of the Red Lady down super quickly. I wish I was as good at you when it comes to that.”  
He meant it. Her already controlled dancing was accompanied tonight with a style of power and confidence. She had this sort of smile, a certain sideways glance that Adrien hoped would translate onto the audience in the same way it affected him up close. At least his demeanor tonight was starting to match up with hers.  
She must’ve taken a mind-reading class in between rehearsals. “Well, try to keep up, handsome boy.” Her eyebrows may or may not have waggled.  
He blinked, then felt his stomach buckle as he laughed, really laughed, for the first time in a few weeks. He watched in delight as Marinette’s cheeks pinked.  
“W-what?”  
“Getting a bit too much into character, I see?”  
“You could use some of it, I feel,” she challenged back.  
“Oh?” His feet took a step forward before he knew it, forcing her to lean back into the barre. Her big blue eyes careened up at his face.  
From this close up, he could see a smattering of freckles across her nose, her black hair sticking to the underside of her jawline due to perspiration. All of her sharp edges when she was dancing as his Lady were dulled here.  
His lips were suddenly very, very dry. He held back the urge to lick them.  
“So I didn’t make enough of a good im-purr-ession?”  
She giggled again, but her blush intensified. “That was pretty horrible, kitty.”  
At that point, someone called for Marinette’s name and he was left alone with a wave. His spine snapped up. Perhaps all the stuff the choreographer had said that day was really getting into his head. Talk about a character study.  
For some reason, Nino’s face came up in his mind as he watched Marinette fiddle with the buttons on her coat before she stepped to leave the dance room. Her face wrinkled, maybe a bit averse to the idea of the brisk night air.  
Yeah, she was kind of cute.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grimaced. “Sorry, again. If I had any idea that that’s where this performance was going to go, I wouldn’t have even suggested it.”
> 
> She smiled at him then, and his heart literally started pounding in his ears.
> 
> “O-oh no I’m fine! I’m just glad I got to spend time with…” her voice became low and quiet.
> 
> “Come again?”
> 
> “…you.”

He had just set Marinette down when Madame Bustier called over to them.

“Adrien! Mari! Great job. Here, these just came in from the shop.”

With that she passed a black mask to him and a red mask to Marinette.

“You need to start getting used to wearing those when you’re dancing, so use them until dress rehearsal.”

Adrien turned the somewhat flimsy black mask in his hands. Opening night was a little over a month away. Today, a Friday, marked the second week since he gained a new partner. The company had finished Act I already, and were now focusing on the second half of the story that contained most of the action. “Chat Noir” had already soothed a monster and found his Princess (to be fair, Chloe had already learned all the steps in her three scenes). Now all that was left in the plot was his fight with the evil sorcerer, and then the Red Lady’s sacrifice.

That’s what they were working on today: the final pas de deux. It involved a lot of lifts for him, but far fewer of the jumps that made his ankles sore.

He looked over to his partner to find her struggling with finding a way to tie the red mask around her ballet bun.

“Need help, Marinette?”

She pinked a bit. This was a common reaction coming from her, he had learned.

“Ah, thank you…Adrien.”

He took the mask strands and came up behind her. “Hold the front,” he mumbled under his breath as he made a quick knot.

Her hair was shiny from exertion, but still looked soft from this up close. And the back of her pale neck was right there, vulnerable and…

She whipped around. “Thanks!” she chirped. The mask covered most of her blush, Adrien noted disappointedly. “Should I do you next?”

He cleared his throat. “Sure, let me grab some water first.”

A water break later, and Adrien was masked. He noticed in the mirror how the black framing his bright green eyes really did add to the illusion that he was a black cat.

However, it was a kind of strange weight on his face, and cut off his peripheral vision. Hence, practice.

Their choreographer clapped her hands. “Great. From the top, please.”

They took their positions. Marinette sank to the floor, dramatically crouched as the piano banged out a few distressful tones. Chat Noir rushed to her side, his face furrowed with shock and anger.

He slowly helped her up, letting her lean most of her weight upon him. In this scene, she had just taken a finishing blow meant for Chat Noir. Their final dance is one of pain and mutual farewells.

“Yes good, support her. Just like that. And turn! 2, 3, 4…”

The choreographer continued counting the beat, but he could barely hear her. Not when the enigmatic Red Lady was staring back at him, blue blue blue surrounded by that red.

Had her waist always been this small? Now that muscle memory was taken into effect, he was noticing things. Maybe his selective vision helped too. He could only see her.

And her emotions were clear. Every move, although calculated and clean, was hesitant and accompanied with a small twinge of pain. Still, she soldiered on.

“And…up!”

Like a robot on command, he lifted her small but strong body above him. All the while, her eyes never left his. In previous practices she had quaked a bit in fear when the lift began, but there was none of that this time. She arched her back while resting her knee on his shoulder and all he could do was stare at her in awe.

The song was nearing its end now. He lowered her down to the floor, still entangled with him. She went on pointe as he helped her spin, his hands gripped onto the bodice of her leotard. She ended her turns and looked at him, once again.

There was something in those cerulean orbs that urged him to understand. Something sweet. It looked like how his mother used to look at him when she tucked him in at night when he was a boy. A warmth.

And just like that, she slipped from his arms.

He cried, but no sound came out. Only the piano screamed his anguish as his lady laid on the floor lifeless.

The piano ended. The room was silent, save for his heavy breathing. Since when had he been panting? Where did the music go? He was enraptured in the moment.

A sniffle broke him out of his reverie. Madame Bustier stood in front of them, wiping at her eyes.

“Wonderful…just wonderful you two!”

He looked immediately to his partner. She was sitting up now, definitely not lifeless like her character. Adrien let out a breath he wasn’t conscious of holding.

She smiled at him, a sun in the evening of Paris.

“Good job,” she said, extending a loose fist towards him.

He bumped it back. “Good job,” he echoed.

Rehearsal ended early that day.

xxx

He got found nine text notifications on his phone when he got to his bag.

hey

hey bro

hey Adrien

ur coming tonight right

you better not forget

hey

hello

let me know you got this bro

YOU BETTER BE THERE!

The last one was followed by some skulls. Adrien gulped.

He glanced at the time. Of course! Nino had been telling him for weeks about how he was dancing the solo in tonight’s contemporary performance. Rays of…something, it was called. Friday, 8:00.

The clock on his phone read 7:36.

Normally, he would still be stuck in rehearsal but they had been let out early so he couldn’t use that as an excuse to see his best friend’s performance next week. And besides, it wasn’t fair to Nino. When Adrien had first joined the company, he was the only one who approached him because of his “sick shoes bro,” not because they wanted to discuss his father. He was a true friend, to the end.

“You look…stressed.”

It was rare for his partner to be the first to initiate the conversation. Her friend, the one she always went home with, was waiting by the door.

“I almost forgot about the contemporary performance tonight. My good friend’s in it.” An idea struck. “What are you doing the rest of the night? You should come watch.”

Marinette stammered. Actually stammered. “Uh actually A-Alya and I were going to…”

“…probably order some takeout and then watch ‘Mafiosa’ but that can wait right Marinette?”

Her friend had appeared behind her, placing her hands firmly on the ballerina’s shoulders. If Adrien didn’t know any better, it almost felt as if she was pushing the nervous girl towards him.

She extended a hand. “I’m Alya, by the way. Newly-promoted Costume Manager, at your service.”

He shook her hand. “Of course, you can come too. The more there to support Nino, the happier he will be.”

“Sounds fun!”

Marinette still looked unsure. “Um, I’m not dressed right.”

Her outfit looked fine to Adrien, but maybe girls were extra careful about things like sport shorts and leg warmers.

Alya’s eyes glinted. “Come with me.”

She whisked the other girl out of the studio, and Adrien felt like he had no other option but to follow.

They were led to the costume shop door. With an order to Adrien to wait outside, the two girls entered the room. After five minutes, Alya popped her head out.

“Adrien, red or blue?”

Both were equally good and brought up images of that spellbinding pas de deux earlier. “Uh, red.”

She left without another word. Moments later, Marinette stepped out.

“Won’t somebody get mad if I’m wearing this?”

“Honey, I’m the one who would be getting mad. You look cute.”

Her black tights and converse from earlier had remained, but a long gray sweater covered her like a dress. He saw her hair for the first time released from its usual bun—when she brushed a strand back, her ears glinted with red costume jewels.

“Nice enough?” asked Alya.

He nodded. Vigorously.

“Good. Let’s get to the theatre.”

xxx

“What’s this supposed to be about again?”

“I have no idea, actually.”

Nino was on stage and shirtless, just like all the other male dancers. Bright orange paint was splashed upon his torso in a not-quite-tribal pattern. He stood in the middle of a circle of dancers, a bit unrecognizable to Adrien without his glasses.

His hands were raised and he just…stood there, frozen.

Alya popped her head, waving a program half-heartedly.

“It says it’s supposed to be about 'the interplay between humanity’s rise and the sun cycles.’”

He frowned. “That sounds…really vague.”

“Right?”

They all turned their eyes to the stage once again. Nino had finally started to move now, leaping into the air with impressive strength. Unlike the smoothness that Adrien was used to, the contemporary performance had a lot of jagged movements and the music was dark and foreboding.

All of the sudden, his friend stood still again, center stage. Two female dancers disappeared and came back with drums and…

“Oh god, please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”

Nino grabbed the phallic-shaped sticks and began banging on the drums in time with the music. Even worse, his friend began yelling to add to the cacophony.

The dancers began to all partner up and grind in ethnic motions.

Marinette squeaked beside him.

He had only two hands, so he used one to cover his partner’s fragile eyes while face palming. Best friend or not, Nino certainly had a different view on what he considered “art.”

However, his friend looked stern but content up on that stage. Full of life. He must’ve practiced his solo for hours, and yet it still looked fresh.

Finally, the music ended and he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him when the house lights came up.

He turned to Marinette right away. “I am so sorry about that. I had no idea that…”

She waved him off. “I-it’s fine Adrien! I’m glad I was able to spend time…uh experiencing other types of dance from our company.”

“No no, I really mean it, I feel bad.” His stomach took that moment to growl menacingly.

“Let me make it up to you. Do you like Chinese?”

Before she could answer, Alya eagerly nodded. “Yes. Yes we do.”

xxx

“That was 45 minutes of my life that I’m never getting back.”

Nino viciously finished his bite of fried rice and glared at Alya. “It was 45 minutes of understanding human nature. Maybe you just didn’t get it.”

They continued to argue back and forth over their Chinese food. Adrien began tuning them out and turned to Marinette, who was back in her dance clothes and pushing a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. She must’ve still been mentally scarred.

He grimaced. “Sorry, again. If I had any idea that that’s where this performance was going to go, I wouldn’t have even suggested it.”

She smiled at him then, and his heart literally started pounding in his ears.

“O-oh no I’m fine! I’m just glad I got to spend time with…” her voice became low and quiet.

“Come again?”

“…you.”

His heart warmed. But words were never his strong point, so he changed the subject.

“So uh, would you ever do contemporary?”

She giggled. “Nothing like that, no. But I have done a little in the past…”

“Wait, are we going to talk about Mari’s Youth Prix run?” Alya interjected.

Adrien was surprised. “You competed in the Youth Prix?”

“N-never in the rounds final I mean Final Rounds but I did get the chance to compete, yes.”

The Youth American Grand Prix was the world’s most famous competition for non-professional dancers from 9 to 19. Adrien had the honor of competing and getting Bronze in the Finals in New York before he got contracted to the ballet company. Before then his father would enter him every year, with looks of disapproval if he didn’t make it to the Finals.

“That’s amazing! When did you compete, I competed for a couple of years.”

Marinette looked slightly embarrassed. “From about age 11 to 15, I think.”

“Why stop so soon?”

“I had an ankle injury.”

The mood at the table dropped. Even the usually optimistic Alya looked troubled.

“Oh no! It’s not that bad. I got back on my feet after all and started dancing again, and now I’m here.” She smiled wistfully. “Madame Bustier was my dance teacher before the accident. Oh, but don’t tell anyone! I don’t want people to think that I’m getting special treatment or anything.”

“You’re not,” Adrien said, before even realizing it. “…Getting special treatment, I mean. You really deserve this role. No one could bring such strength and depth to the Red Lady’s dances as you do, Marinette.”

Her blue eyes looked up at him then, mesmerized. “You really think that?”

Her stare was contagious. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. She was starting to have this effect on him, an emotion he couldn’t quite name when he saw her.

“Yeah, I do.”

They finished the rest of their meal in peaceful silence.

“Okay. Why didn’t you tell me you were dating?”  
Adrien groaned. “They say 'goodbye’ and two minutes later you’re already asking me this?”

“Dude, what was that? I’ve never seen flirting more obvious.” Nino suddenly lunged onto the sidewalk, dramatically clutching his heart.  
“Oh, mi amour Marinette! Your dancing has captured me both body and soul!”

“Quit that.”

Nino laughed and retired his dramatic pose. “I’ve known you for two years, Adrien, and you haven’t dated a girl once.”

“Yeah, well, dancers don’t really have extra time.”

“Pssh, that’s bull. At least ask her out casually.”

“She’s not that kind of girl alright?!”

His friend waggled his eyebrows. “How would you know?”

Adrien was not normally an aggressive person, but he suddenly emphasized with that cliché moment in anime where the main protagonist slams his friend into the nearest wall.

In reality, he just glowered.

“She's…she’s not. She’s incredibly kind and sweet and…strong.”

Nino nodded to that.

“Crazy, to recover from an injury so fast. Explains why she’s only in the corps.”

Adrien smiled. “I like resilience in a person.”

“Resilience? You have the vocabulary of a 50 year old. Is that what you’ll tell her when you ask her out?”

“Who said anything about asking her out?” Adrien’s eyes starting shifting and he couldn’t quite explain why.

Nino just grinned knowingly and patted his friend on the back.

“Come on man. One Punch Man’s not going to watch itself.”

xxx

Nino finally left around 1:00 in the morning. Adrien collapsed on his bed again, Plagg coming up to nudge him with his nose.

“What, you wanna sleep here tonight buddy?” Adrien muttered sleepily. He rolled over to scoop Plagg into his arms.

What a long day.

Dance rehearsal, Nino's….thing, dinner out with more than two people, and then three solid hours of video games and anime with some popcorn he had found stuck in the back of a cabinet.

His sleepy mind mulled over Marinette. He had dated before, thank you very much Nino. Although, his only experience was Chloe briefly forcing him on a few dates and hanging off of him in lycée, showing him off like he was a branded handbag. Which, he guessed, was somewhat true.

Gabriel Agreste designed and approved. He snorted.

Anyways, the whole thing was called off (by him) in a matter of days with the excuse that his studies were taking too much of his time…which wasn’t exactly a lie. Before he went pro, his father made him take Chinese and composing lessons with a tutor. He didn’t really have much of a teenage life.

Marinette. Did she have a normal life? Laughing with Alya over lunch? Struggling to write an essay for English? Maybe she had even dated before.

Imagining her with some mystery teenage boyfriend suddenly made his stomach drop. He grimaced. Why was he so interested in his dance partner’s romantic life? Surely it didn’t matter if she was dating anyone, even now. They were just colleagues.

He couldn’t stop this dark feeling though. Somehow, she had become the thing he looked forward when he woke up every morning. Just her smiles and her dancing and the way she looked at him, like she wouldn’t mind if the real him was just some dude who talked to his cat and was only in this line of work because he wanted to postpone the inevitable.

She was his partner. His. Other men be damned.

Adrien shook his head. Whoa, where had that come from? Exhaustion, he concluded. Nino’s stupid, prying words. Sleep.

Sleep.

xxx

It was around the third time that Adrien rubbed his eyes when Marinette walked in.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, but his eyes followed her. Life had a way of messing with him, because his rest was constantly interrupted with dreams about her. And the next night. And the next. He wouldn’t remember much in the morning, and the lack of sleep was making him cranky.

She was stretching now, feet spread far apart on the wooden floor. While she wasn’t facing him, he could make out her slightly troubled expression in the mirror. The curves of her entire body looked inviting.

He wanted to go over to her, but what would he say? Hey there partner, just wanted to mention that you have a distracting lock of hair outside your bun. Oh, and I’ve been having these dreams about you and right now your stretching is affecting my concentration. The poor girl was somewhat uncomfortable around him already.

Maybe there was some sort of cure for this…whatever. Adrien had danced with female partners since he was 11! Yeah, he liked girls and had the occasional crush growing up, but this was bordering on infatuation.

Whenever he wasn’t dancing, he was thinking about her. The idea that this somewhat quiet girl could become this dominating and fierce dancer whenever she put on that mask made him giddy. If she hadn’t gotten injured, he was sure she would’ve been promoted to a lead position already.

He wanted to be her friend.

And more, if given the chance, his mind whispered. Like the rest of his feelings, he swallowed it down. Thank God he had years of training to do so.

She finally noticed him on the other side of the room. He pretended to be interested in the label of his water bottle.

“Hey there. Um, could you help me again with the mask please?” She held out the item in question to him.

He had to clear his dry throat. “Sure, no problem.”

Except it was a problem. He had been looking forward to this moment the entire weekend, ever since those stupid stupid dreams had started.

It was unnatural, how much he enjoyed this simple action of brushing away her hair to tie the mask together. She shivered when his fingertips lingered along her nape.

Without a word, his masked lady turned to him, hands stretched out to return the favor.

It was his turn to shiver as a cold wave of anticipation ran up his spine. Her cool fingers rustling through his hair were both stimulating and calm. Before he could relish in the bliss, she was done.

But not without a quick pat to his head.

He almost had a heart attack right then and there.

“Ready to work, kitty?” she teased.

Yes. Yes. God yes. He sunk to his knees, actually daring to briefly kiss her hand. It just felt right.

He already was so much freer with the mask on. His feet were lighter, body more sure as he moved along with her light form. They would leap in tandem with timing of the music, small smiles shared when they finished a series of difficult steps in a row.

She was really his one and only Lady.

And right now, he was her Chat Noir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still figuring out how Ao3 is formatted.
> 
> Also, don't expect updates so quickly, this chapter was already written when I first posted here.  
> On a side note, Nino is super super fun to write (He basically makes up his own lines....I just transcribe).
> 
> Thank you all for the love and support <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Leave me a line if you're inclined to. :)
> 
> Originally posted on FFN (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11839751/1/Red-Shoes) under "Serena Scarlet." I have a lot of old writings from sporadic fandoms there, if you want to check it out.  
> I'm also on tumblr @sabrinadoesscience 


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